Behind Closed Doors
by Kitty Kat K.O
Summary: Suffering from a fatal illness, Zakuro reflects on the time she's spent.


Ok, a new fic that I probably shouldn't start. But I decided that it would be better to post something rather than nothing seeing as I'm struggling with my other stories due to writer's block.

After finishing writing this, I actually realised that the title doesn't have much to do with the oneshot, but oh well!! It sounds good to me, so I'm going to keep it.

Disclaimer: I don't own TMM - never have, never will.

Behind Closed Doors

Chapped lips closed round the brim of the mug, thankfully gulping down the steaming liquid. The hot tea eased her raw throat and she closed her eyes to fully take in it's soothing feel. Touch was virtually the only sense she had left; her hearing having deafened slightly, her sight no longer as sharp as it used to be. Taste and smell were pretty much her enemies, turning everything sour and foul. Her senses were decaying, more rapidly now, alongside her body that wasn't behaving like it used to.

Shakily she raised her hand and unsteadily ran it through her greasy mop of hair. As she did so, she came across a knot and pulled at it slightly, trying with the little energy she had to undo it. Unfortunately, though the tug was weak, a clump of her indigo locks still managed to come out. She sighed. It wasn't the first time this had happened.

Turning her diminishing gaze upon the outside world, she watched. From behind the glass she could make out the shapes and forms of people and vehicles. Busy as per usual, it seemed the Tokyo streets hustle and bustle never ended, no matter what was happening in everyone's lives. The creatures that roamed the city came with all different backgrounds, all different ways of living carried on with their activities, oblivious to anything else around them. Scenarios and situations varied, but did anyone else know that? Did anyone really know what was going on in the life of the old lady trotting past them, carrying a basket full of groceries? Did anyone care what happened to the teenage boy they saw kicking an empty can as he walked along the pavement, hands buried in his pockets and head down? No was most likely the answer to these questions.

She chuckled to herself, a bitter laugh full of self-pity. She had never been one to pity herself, but something about her thoughts got to her. If only everyone knew what she was hiding, maybe she would've been cured. But no. Everyone in the outside world was too wrapped up in their own tiny problems that they didn't consider that anything could possibly be wrong with the girl that never ventured out of her home.

She shook her head abruptly, wanting to put an end to the selfish comments that poured throughout the depths of her mind. It was no use now. It was already too late and she knew that even if he _did _discover a cure, her body would either be too weak to handle it, or she would be gone. For the first time that day, she had a selfless thought. If he found a cure, she prayed with all her might that the other girl would be able to take it and make something out of her life. Placing the china cup down on the kitchen bench, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, sending her prayer up to the heavens. She had never been a deeply religious girl, but something about this made her feel a little more comforted.

A wave of nausea washed over her body, making her gag and search for the sink in a panic. She emptied the contents of her stomach into the basin, panting afterwards. This illness was unlike any other known to man-kind, though symptoms were not too dissimilar to a wide range of diseases. Constant puking and headaches, red-raw throat, drowsiness and fatigue, sudden black-outs, dimming senses…all were a part of this sickness that plagued her body, torturing her.

A lone tear escaped from her violet orb, though it was ignored. Crying was the last thing she needed to do right now. It would only serve to zap her strength and she would probably be bedridden for a day. She was already running on an all-time low and didn't want to chance her life just yet. She at least wanted to make it to a time where she could see her younger friend improving. She wanted to see Minto recover from this deathtrap, even if she herself could not.

She returned her attention to the window and beyond. To take her mind off of things, she would play a game. A game Purin had taught her not long before she had…

With her poor eyesight, she was just able to make out a figure down below. She took in the colour of hair (brown), clothes (purple on top, blue on bottom) and gender (female). This information was all she needed.

--

Her name was Mikomi Tatibana, she was a well-off and accomplished young woman at the age of thirty-two. She had been married five years and had given birth to a son three years prior. Her profession was as a business woman, working as head of department in a financial company. Her husband, Gregor Jones (for he originated from America) was a man who worked in a top-of-the-notch restaurant. He was soon to be promoted to the main man of the kitchen staff.

At the moment, she made her way through the city, searching for a small antique shop in which to buy her mother's 60th birthday present. The other day when she had been out looking, she had come across it and when rifling through the items - though with care - she had come across a small cat statue carved from marble. Digging in her purse she had realised she didn't have enough money for it there and then and had asked the shopkeeper if he would mind reserving it for her and she would come back to collect it the next day. He had obliged, all too happy to finally sell it, for it had been sat in the store's window for months now without a single offer.

Mikomi herself loathed cats. She despised the feline creatures with her whole heart, however, her mother adored them. So she would buy it. Her hatred of the species had begun when she was a small child and a black cat had bitten and clawed at her for trying to pick it up. She shook her head, forcing away the reluctantly re-surfaced memory.

--

From where she stood at the window, she smiled to herself, not noticing the time gone by as she made up this woman's story who was now actually far gone. It was fun to pass the hours with, the childish game kept her brain from shutting down and allowed her to use what little imagination was left. It gave her hope; making up people's lives and daily routines all with happy endings. These little stories forced her worrying mind to focus on something other than her dying body and that, it turn, made her smile all the more.

She would've continued her fantasy, however, her body called out to her to lie down. She compelled, letting her feet drag her away and into her large lilac bedroom - a room which she was becoming pretty sick of seeing as she spent most of her time in there.

Deciding she would change her pj's as the ones she had on now were beginning to get dirty and smell funny, she selected a pair from her mahogany draw and threw them on. She mentally slapped herself when she realised she had forgotten to remove the old ones. Taking both pairs off and re-dressing herself again, she found her body craving sleep more than before.

Barely even managing to stand up straight, she quickly clamboured into bed and tucked herself under the warm duvet. Snuggling up, she turned onto her left-side, staring at the wall. Sighing, her lips curved themselves into a frown as she contemplated how much time she had left. Yes, it was depressing, but it was a constant worry for her. She kept wondering what would happen if she didn't wake up, if these few moments were her last.

Because she knew that this would happen. It had been the case for Ichigo that one night, while they were all sleeping at Minto's, the red-head had been extremely wiped out and though she had insisted she would be fine in the morning, it was clear that she wouldn't be. And much to everyone's horror, Ichigo never woke up the next day. No-one had stopped crying the whole day, even the normally emotionless Shirogane. She had been the first to go.

Her death had been followed by a funeral. The event had been rather extravagant, paid for entirely by Ryou. It was the least they could do, after all, she had been a good friend - no, a _great _friend - and a hard-working Mew. It was her reward, although she would never be able to appreciate it.

Only a few weeks later, she had received a phone-call from Minto. Retasu had been rushed into hospital by her parents, neither of whom knew what illness their daughter was suffering from. The others had raced to the hospital themselves in order to see their friend. It was only a matter of hours later when the green-haired girl had also died.

Several months passed by, the remaining three Mews growing worse in their condition. After some time, even Ryou caught the disease. And then came the biggest shock of all. They finally found out what it was. Their animal DNA was mutating, but their bodies were attempting to fight it. Instead though, they were dying from it.

For some strange reason, Ryou didn't have the problem that long. It was just about a month before he joined Retasu and Ichigo.

The café was closed and she ended up spending a lot of her time with Purin. The two talked for hours at a time, normally without any substantial topic, so conversation drifted from subject to subject. It was then that the younger girl had taught her 'the game'. It was the one she had been playing earlier. At first, she had been reluctant to try such an immature pass-time, but Purin would sit and go on at it for a long time. She was just content listening to her friend. The monkey-infused girl sounded so happy as she reeled off made-up facts about people she had seen but would never know. Affectionate smiles became harder to rid herself of as she watched Purin play. So eventually she had decided to try it in her spare time. She had found herself enjoying it and couldn't wait for the next day when she could take her turn in telling Purin one of the stories.

But when she did get to the café (as they still used it to hang out at), she found out the hard way not to put things off until the last minute. Purin had passed away a little while after she had left yesterday.

Now, there was only herself, Akasaka-san and Minto.

--

Without her knowing, her flashbacks had lead her into a deepening sleep. Her eyes closed for the last time, her breathing becoming shallower with the passing seconds. Her mind took it's last walk though consciousness, fading to black as the images of her friends disappeared completely. Subconsciously, with the last of her strength, her mouth twisted into a small smile. The peace she had waited for claimed her body, and everything stilled.

--

Morning rays of sunlight drifted through her open curtains, but her mood contrasted greatly with the weather. Something bad was about to happen.

Her silent room was disturbed by the ring of the phone from outside in the hallway, followed by a scuffling of feet as they shuffled towards her doorway. A light tap sounded upon the wooden surface and Minto immediately granted the knocker access to her huge chamber. The door clicked open and a maid walked over to the blue-haired girl fresh from slumber.

"It's for you, Miss," the woman spoke quietly, handing the receiver to the young mistress.

"Arigato," she replied as she took it with one hand, brushing her hair behind her ear with the other so it would be easier to hear.

"Moshi moshi," she said.

"Minto-san," came Keiichiro's voice from the other end. The tone he used gave the girl a knot in her stomach. This wasn't going to be a pleasant call and she should probably expect the worst.

"Yes?"

"Well…" There was a pause from the man, one that lasted quite a while and signaled to Minto that he would not continue unless she prompted him.

"Go on," she ordered. She was definitely not a morning person and the fact that the reason he had called was most likely a bad one only served to aggravate her further.

"…Zakuro-san passed away last night. I'm sorry."

He had expected a response, but the only one he got was a clunk as the phone at the other end dropped to the floor. Hastily, after jolting herself from the shock, Minto scrambled to grab the receiver to let Keiichiro know she was still there.

"There is some good news, although it may not seem so good. I've found the cure, and if you want, we can start your treatment today. It won't take long until you're fully recovered - a couple of months maybe," he explained.

Minto replied with a, "Uh huh." She couldn't focus on his words properly. After several minutes, they ended the call and she hung up. Her hands now dangled in her lap as tears poured soundlessly down her cheeks. She uttered not a word, despair filling her entire being as she looked straight ahead, eyes concentrating on nothing.

She sat like that for a long time until her maid called to her that breakfast would be served shortly. Deciding it would be best to get dressed today, as she would need to see Keiichiro later, she stood and walked to her wardrobe, pulling out a dainty black dress.

As she stared at her reflection in her vanity mirror once fully clothed, she spoke the only words she would emit for the rest of the day.

"Goodbye Zakuro-onee-sama."

--

**A/N: **Yes I know, it was depressing. But stories don't always have happy endings. I thought I'd write this as it suited my mood a bit. Having glandular fever isn't fun - especially when you get bored easily.

The name Zakuro chose to name the woman in her story means 'hope' in Japanese. If she was running out of it, there's no reason others should.

Yeah, so this was supposed to be a chaptered story of oneshots, but I changed my mind.

Anyway, review!

KO xoxo


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